


Twist Of Fate

by wildfox



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Darcy Lewis is Tony Stark's Daughter, Darcy Lewis-centric, F/M, Historical Inaccuracy, Idiots in Love, M/M, Multi, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Bucky Barnes, Scientist Wrangler Darcy Lewis, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-18 15:14:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29491905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildfox/pseuds/wildfox
Summary: Darcy Lewis had always known one of her Soulmates was Steve Rogers. Still, she had never truly expected her Steve to be Captain America until she heard the news of him being pulled out of the Arctic alive. When the two finally meet thirteen years after that, Darcy is certain she was fated to belong to at least one super soldier.Except the words that come out of Steve's mouth are not the ones branded onto her skin.
Relationships: Darcy Lewis/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Darcy Lewis, James "Bucky" Barnes/Darcy Lewis/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Jane Foster & Steve Rogers
Comments: 22
Kudos: 206





	1. The Fall.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, friends! Hope you guys can enjoy the mess that is this story!  
> I'm still working my way through it, I'm not that well versed in American History or its culture in the 40s so updates will come out slowly until I feel comfortable with it. I'll try to make the following information all very obvious as the story unfolds, but if you'd rather know more details before you dig in, here they are:
> 
> 1\. Endgame happened the same way it did in the movie, but Steve didn't stay in the past and Tony didn't die. Still, neither of them are Avengers anymore: Steven works training new Avengers, while Tony is in charge of the science department. Sam has taken the Captain America shield, and Bucky works with him.  
> 2\. None of this story will be Wandavision compliant. I haven't seen the show yet and it'll probably be very clear that none of the events there happen here, but I just wanted to make it clear.  
> 3\. The lore of Soulmarks will be expanded further as we go, but the basics are: Every person is born with the first words their Soulmate will say to them. Some people have multiple marks, and not always do the Marks match with one another: One-sided Soulmates happen, even if very rarely, and are a very sad thing to go through.

**2026 —— Avenger’s Compound, Upstate NY**.

Darcy’s developed a habit. The cafeteria’s windows face the race tracks, and ever since she moved to the compound about four months prior, the woman’s developed a habit out of sitting by the window, drinking her coffee and watching people run. And by people, of course, she means the two resident super-soldiers, Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes. This particular morning, Barnes is nowhere to be seen, Rogers instead running alongside a man she’s come to know (through her favorite barista) is named Sam Wilson. The new Captain America, whatever that meant in their post-apocalyptic world.

Some days, Darcy wishes she had the willpower to start running as well. Maybe even just a jog, anything that could get her even just a little bit closer to the man she knows is her Soulmate. They’ve never spoken before, but Darcy Lewis is one of the few fortunate people who’s mark was also their Soulmate’s name. First and last, _Steve Rogers_ , like a proper gentleman. Her second Soulmark wasn’t as polite.

Steven is on his fifth lap by the time Darcy’s phone rings. She answers it right away, though her eyes never stray away from the man. “Yes, _bosslady_?”

“Darce? Where the fuck are you?” Jane screeched on the other side of the phone, and her tone is so alarming that the brunette stands up instantly, nearly knocking her chair back as she starts to rush out of the cafeteria, nearly knocking into James Barnes in the process.

“Jane? What’s wrong?” She asked, giving the soldier a dismissive waive as she pushes her way out of the room. Later, once her heart stopped trying to claw its way through her mouth, Darcy would absolutely lose her entire shit over the brief encounter; she’d been wanting to meet the Sargent ever since she first arrived at the compound, and the fact that she hadn’t even looked him in the face in their first literal run in would shame her for months to come. If she’d looked, Darcy too would’ve noticed the flabbergasted look on the man’s face as he watched her run away.

Darcy pushes the laboratory door open with force, winded from her run as she looks around for whatever fire she’d need to put out— Jane hadn’t been able to string a single coherent sentence over the phone, instead screaming about rainbow bridges and losing her entire career. “What happened?” Darcy asked the scientist, blue eyes scanning the room for any obvious disaster. Nothing seems out of the ordinary, the place silent and messy just like Darcy’d left. It’s a large room, full of windows and glass tables; in the center of the room sits Jane’s man-made Einstein-Rosen Bridge: an extra-large kiddie pool looking thing with a liquid that shines and shimmers like melted pearls.

“My computer won’t turn on! All of my research’s in it, if i lose it that’s ten years of work down the drain!” Jane has a wild-eyed, glossy stare that tells Darcy she hasn’t been sleeping. It also tells Darcy that the issue is certainly much more manageable than Jane had made it seem.

“OK, did you make sure it’s plugged to an outlet?” She asked, kneeling under the table as the other woman cried out in outrage. Once Darcy’s verified that the computer is, indeed, plugged, she crawls out from under the table, still on her hands and knees as she faces a pair of thick thighs, clad in a very light shade of gray.

“Darce?” Steve Rogers asked, still sweaty from his run but not nearly as winded as Darcy felt. “Is it really you? Bucky said he ran into you in the cafeteria and I just couldn’t believe it I— I had to see it for myself. I’ve been searching for you for so long.”

Slowly, very slowly, Darcy stands up. The Captain offers her a hand, but the brunette doesn’t take it. This was the first time they were meeting; Darcy was sure of that, because she’d remember meeting a man like Steve Rogers even if she didn’t have his name etched onto her ribs. And those words certainly didn’t match what had just come out of his mouth.

The woman takes a step back, irrational tears flooding her eyes as she shakes her head. “I’m sorry, Captain Rogers, but I don’t believe we’ve met before.” She answered, taking a second step back. Her legs are shaking, be it from the run towards the lab or the fact that the man she’d been dreaming of since she was a kid turned out not to be a match after all, Darcy isn’t sure. The back of her leg hits the kiddie pool, Darcy’s chunky heel skidding on the tile floor. The brunette falls backwards, an undignified squeal escaping her lips as she plummets into the Einstein-Rosen Bridge.

**1940 —— Brooklyn, New York.**

The first thing Darcy notices is that she never hit the ground. In one moment she was falling into Jane’s man-made wormhole, the next she was laying on the humid ground. The place around her is dark, smelling of rotten fruit and urine, and it doesn’t take long for Darcy to recognize it as an alleyway. Then, just as she starts to freak out, Darcy hears a grumbling noise from not too far away; it’s a boy, slumped against the back wall of a restaurant, blood flowing down his nose. “Fucking hell, dude, are you alive? You’re bleeding a shitton.” The woman scurries forward, using the flashlight of her phone to lighten up his face; turns out it wasn’t a boy, as she expected, but a scrawny looking adult male. She pokes him with her foot, almost expecting him to be dead. He blinked, hazy look in his eyes as he stares up at her.

“Are you an angel? Nice to meet you, angel. I’m Steve Rogers.”

“Motherfuck.” Darcy mumbled under her breath. Her words, flaring up into life make her ribs hurt; it feels like she’s taking a deep breath after holding it in for too long, like her lungs and ribs and skin all expand into themselves to fit more— to fit _him_. “We need to get you somewhere to patch you up.” A hospital? The compound? The alleyway didn’t seem fit of the vast upstate of where the compound was; the buildings around them were too close, too tall for that. “Did you fall with me? Through Jane’s rainbow pool?”

Steve Rogers, small and very much not super hero at all, blinked up at her as if she’d just spoken Russian. “What?” He asked, shaking his head the slightest bit; it seems like even the small movement hurts, his entire face scrunching up. “No, miss, don’t worry about that. I’m not here because of you. And I don’t need no hospital, it’s just a scratch.”

“Your nose is broken.” She deadpanned, though she wasn’t certain that was true. This whole situation was odd, and Darcy wasn’t quite sure what was happening, but if this Steve (whoever this Steve is) is her Soulmate, then there is no way in hell she’ll leave him behind. The brunette steps away momentarily, walking over to the entrance of the alley, poking her head out carefully and looking. Left, right, left again, right again. “Steve, where are we?”

“Brooklyn, miss. You not from around here?” He answered after a small pause, and Darcy doesn’t know if it was because he was having difficulty talking, or because of the strange nature of her question.

Left again, right again. Darcy watches a lady cross the street into one of the brownstones, her heart sinking into her chest. “Steve, what year is it?”

This time the pause is definitely because of the strangeness of her question, the blond frowning at her; even in the darkness Darcy can’t miss the way Steve’s sharp blue eyes flicker down her body multiple times; she’s not wearing anything revealing, but if her gut is right, she probably looks alien to him. And not just because she’s wearing a sweater in such a warm evening. “It’s July 1940.”

///

They sit together in the alley for at least twenty minutes; Darcy doesn’t think the clock on her phone is working (it still marks October 23rd 2026 even if time isn’t the same as it had been before she fell), but she’s still able to tell it’s been exactly twenty-three minutes. They sit in silence, Steve trying to stop the bleeding of his nose while Darcy sits next to him, unsure of what she should do; she’d slept through most of her history classes in high school, but she knows bad things are right around the corner. Maybe they’re already happening, even if not in this side of the globe. It also crosses her mind that she doesn’t have a place to go, and she doesn’t have the proper clothes on, and there’s around maybe thirty dollars at most in the tiny front pocket of her jeans. She doesn’t know how to go back to her time either, but Darcy has the kind of blind faith in Jane that trusts the woman to find her and rescue her, somehow.

“Are you feeling better? Can you walk? We should get you home.” She said, twisting her face to look at the other man. First things first, get Steven to safety. After that, she’d figure out someplace to stay.

“You don’t need to worry about me, miss. I’ll be fine.” He sounds almost a little coy as he turns to her. “Can I walk you home? It’s not safe for a lady to walk around these parts this late at night.”

Darcy opens her mouth, and then closes it. She watches the shift on Steve’s face as he seems to regret his offer, taking her silence as a denial. “I don’t have anywhere to go.” She admitted after a moment; she could’ve lied, told him she was fine on her own, but Darcy had learned from a young age that being honest about her difficulties usually ended up with people offering some help; or, at the very least, some advice. “I’m not from around here, and I don’t exactly have any living family.”

“I can tell.” He nodded, plastering a hand against the wall and pushing himself up. “You can come with me. I share a an apartment a few blocks from here with a friend. You can stay there for the night, and we’ll find something else in the morning.” Steve hesitates with his offer, and Darcy almost wonders if he’s expecting her to be offended; a strange man offering a woman to crash at his place? Sounds like something a woman her age in the year they found themselves would be offended. Darcy can only feel relief. “It’s not much, but it’s a roof.”

“Won’t it bother your friend?”

“Please. Bucky’s going to love having someone else to hear him complain about the man that owns our building.”

Bucky isn’t home when they arrive. Home is an apartment building that already looks old, towering at an outstanding three floors squished between two much larger brownstones. The walls are chipped and the front door creaks when Steve pushes it open, but it’s much better than the grimy alleyway they’d just left; it’s also much better than their lab in Puente Antiguo, though that doesn’t mean much. The apartment itself is small, with only one bedroom and a dimly-lit kitchen, a bathroom the size of Darcy’s closet at the Avengers’ Compound and a large fireplace in the living room. The furniture all seems well-worn, but the couch is awfully comfortable once Darcy finally drops onto it. Steve frets around the place for a couple of minutes, hiding dirty laundry and used plates out of her view while his face blushes bright red; she tells him to quit it twice before giving up, getting up and starting to help him put away the dishes. That, somehow, only makes his embarrassment worse.

“Stevie, you home? You won’t believe what that son of a bitch said to me tod—” Bucky’s already pulling a sweaty undershirt from over his head by the time he notices the woman sitting at the dining table. He cuts off his word mid-sentence, only hesitating for three seconds before he’s pulling his clothes back on.

“Bucky, meet Darcy. Miss Darcy, this is James Barnes.” Steve introduced, a small grin on pink lips.

“Nice to meet you, James. I hope you don’t mind that Steve invited me to stay here for the night.” She said, waving awkwardly at him; she’s unsure if she should shake his hand or not, but before Darcy can decide, Bucky’s crossed the small space between them, taking her hand in his. “I’ll leave in the morning, I promise.”

Bucky opens his mouth, a large smile on his lips as he hesitates. Almost like he was choosing his words carefully, considering whether or not Darcy was worthy of spending the night in their couch. “If you leave, doll, it’ll break my damned heart.”


	2. The Match.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy, Bucky and Steve have a much needed conversation. In the future, rescue plans commence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, friends! I know I said updates would come in slowly, but I just had so much inspiration for this chapter I ended up finishing it way ahead of schedule.  
> Hopefully this clears up some of the question marks left in the first chapter, though more will of course be explained as the story progresses and as Darcy learns more of her predicament. 
> 
> Just a small notice, I had to do some finessing with Darcy's age and make her a bit younger during the events of Thor so she shouldn't be wildly older than Steve and Bucky were in the 40s; following canon she'd be around 38 in 2026 while both Steve and Bucky were in their early 20s in 1940 so... Yeah, hope you can forgive me! (Also definitely made her a child prodigy but it's fine... Her dad's one too so it's chill, right?)
> 
> Thank you so much for all of the beautiful, kind comments! It really means a lot to me that some of you took the time to give me your feedback. Hope you enjoy this chapter as well!

**2026 —— Avengers’ Compound, Upstate New York.**

There’s a heavy moment of silence as Darcy disappears into the pool of iridescent liquid, a moment where both Steve and Jane can only stare at the space where the woman had been. Steve had rushed forward once he realized she was falling, but he’d been too far away, Darcy escaping his grasp by a hair’s length. The colorful liquid hadn’t even rippled as she fell into it, as if Darcy wasn’t a corporeal being. For a fleeting moment, Steven wonders if maybe she wasn’t. Maybe both him and Bucky had finally gone off the deep end, seeing ghosts of the past manifesting in the present. The searing hot burn on his left peck tells him otherwise.

But then Jane is rushing around the lab like a madman, speaking so fast that Steve only catches half of the orders she’s barking before he takes off running back into the corridor, taking a sharp left and barging into Tony Stark’s office. “Doctor Foster needs you both. Now.” He said, both Stark and Banner jumping apart at the sound of his voice; Steve doesn’t give himself too much time to think about how he was fairly certain something sexual had been happening in there, turning on his heels before rushing off to find the rest of the team. Ex team, perhaps. They weren’t the Avengers anymore, not with two of their members retired and one of them dead. Not since Thanos had snapped his ugly fucking fingers.

“It was her. Now she’s gone.” Steven says as a way of greeting once he runs into Bucky and Sam in the common room. Wanda’s there as well, Clint’s head on her lap and the Captain feels a twang of something hit him square in the chest— Not because of Wanda, but because he had no idea Clint was back; just more proof of how torn they’d all become. “Jane’s calling an emergency meeting in the labs. I think she said something about a rescue mission, but to be frank she was screaming so high I don’t think anyone but dogs could hear it.”

“Who’s gone?” Clint asked, pushing himself up. There’s a frown on his forehead, and that tired look in his eyes that don’t ever seem to go away anymore. Not since Vormir.

“Darcy.” It’s Bucky that responds, eyes locked on Steve’s face. His expression is sullen yet accepting. The face of a man who’s familiar with the evils of the world. “Darcy Lewis. We should go, from what I hear Dr. Foster isn’t the most patient woman.”

Steve waits until they’ve all left the room, until it’s just him and Bucky alone before he allows himself to think about what had really just happened. “What is it?” Bucky asked, eyebrows furrowing ever-so-slightly at the look on his Soulmate’s face; after so many years, the soldier was able to read the other like a book. Still, the way Steve’s features twist together is something Bucky’s fairly certain he’s never seen before.

“She said my words.”

**1940 —— Brooklyn, New York**.

In retrospect, it made sense that James would be the one to say her other words. She wasn’t sure _why_ it made sense, perhaps because Steve was the one to say her other Soulmark (who came first? Where they both tethered to her because of one another, or were they tethered to each other because of her?), but Darcy wasn’t at all surprised when she feels the flare of pain onto her thigh. It’s warm and vice-like, spreading from the words to the entirety of her thigh as if someone had grabbed at her flesh.

She’s also not surprised with how fast Steve catches onto it. Maybe it’s because he’s familiar with Bucky’s Soulmark, or maybe they’re just the type of friends that can read each other’s faces, but Steve nearly instantly leaves them alone with an excuse of preparing supper. Darcy wants to offer help, she’s staying at their house after all, but Bucky doesn’t let her; he kisses her hand and pulls out his own chair, sitting there and staring at her like he’s Icarus and she’s the sun.

“You’re a really odd dame, Miss Darcy.” He said, and the woman blinks. Once. Twice.

“I’m sorry?”

“Are you European?”

“No?” She raised her head, turning to look at the kitchen area, where Steve pointedly keeps his back to them. There’s no separation between the kitchen and the dining area like she’d expect in an old home, but somehow Darcy doesn’t think _open concept_ was the right wording for it. Shoe box, perhaps. “Why?”

“I’ve never seen anyone dress like you. Nor have I ever met a living, breathing lady who’d willingly come home with Steve.”

“Jerk!” The scrawny blond coughed, back still turned to them as he stirs something onto the stove.

“I’m not from around here.” She admitted, picking at her cuticles. Darcy doesn’t know if telling the two men the truth would alter the course of the future. She’s not even certain they’d believe her, if they wouldn’t call the police and throw her into a mental hospital for it. Did women still get thrown into asylums for being hysterical in the 1940s? It’s not a bet she’s willing to take. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.” Bucky leaned in, a shark-like grin on his lips that makes her feel like prey. It’s not a bad feeling, but it also doesn’t make her think he’d believe her truth. Steve comes back momentarily, placing two steaming mugs of coffee in front of them.

“I’d believe you.” He said, and it’s clear he’s not going to pretend he doesn’t hear them, no matter how much privacy he’s willing to give. “I saw you fall from heaven.”

Darcy blinked again. That was new information, but it made sense as to why Steve’s first instinct had been to ask if she was an angel.

“Are you a fallen angel?” Bucky asked, Darcy’s entirely surprised at how fast Bucky had accepted the information Steve had given them. The blond puts his hand on the other man’s shoulder, squeezing it gently before he moves back to the kitchen; the gesture is so intimate and so loving in such a small, mundane way that red alerts fire everywhere inside Darcy’s brain.

“I was born April 1st 1993.”

To his credit, Bucky doesn’t miss a beat. “And how old are you now?”

“Thirty-three, technically. But I was dead for five years so I think I’m allowed to say I’m twenty-eight.”

“Well, good thing I like older women.”

Darcy can’t hold back the laughter. She takes a sip of her coffee — it’s terrible, but she won’t say it — and looks up, staring at Steve’s hunched shoulders as he keeps on preparing dinner. “You were seventy-five years old when I was born.”

They don’t talk about it anymore. Bucky instead moves on to talk about how he heard some guys at work saying that the Germans had taken over Paris, and Darcy excuses herself to finally help Steve with the food. All she does is stir some stew while Steve works on everything else, but somehow he still makes her feel like she’s contributed greatly to it.

It’s not until much later, after they’ve finished their meal and Darcy is absolutely sweating under her knitted sweater that they approach the subject of Darcy once again.

“Are you really from the future?” Steve asked quietly, shoving another piece of bread in his mouth. It doesn’t go unnoticed to her how both men ate very little of the stew, and it certainly doesn’t go unnoticed how Bucky kept pushing more and more food onto her plate.

“Yeah.” She nodded. Darcy chews slowly, taking a final sip of her shitty coffee as she picks her words carefully, trying to keep it as simple as possible. “I work with a scientist, her name’s Jane. She’s been working on it for a long time, the idea that we’d be able to bend time and space. I accidentally fell into her machine. ”

“You _fell_ into a time traveling machine?” Bucky asked, but unlike she expected, there’s no disbelief in his tone. In fact, it almost sounds like he thinks it’s funny.

“Yup. I slipped into it. Ended up on the alley Steve was in.” She doesn’t give more detail than that; how could she, say that she fell into it because of how frightened she was that Steve, much larger and taller than the man sitting across from her, wasn’t her Soulmate. Only for her to fall back eighty-something years into the past and finally hear the same Steve (Because she understood now that he was, still, the same person) say her actual words. And not only that, but Steve had also not shown any signs that she’d said his words back; maybe he’d proven that once he invited her to stay with him, but Darcy was a modern woman, and she was going to need more affirmation than that.

“Is it common here?” She asked, once again picking at her cuticles. “Triads? We don’t have them very frequently where I’m from. I actually made a lot of money in college letting the science department study my two Soulmarks.”

“You got two as well?” Bucky asked, at the same time Steve shook his head in denial.

“They’re quite rare. A lot of folks don’t like ‘em.” The blond said, and there’s something about his tone that makes Darcy know it’s an understatement.

“Yeah, you and Steve.”

The two men share a look between them, and suddenly Darcy feels awfully nervous. Like she stepped over a line, or that she’s done something horribly wrong. A thousand different emotions cross over Steve’s face, from shock to horror to grief to embarrassment.

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry. But uh— You didn’t say my words.” Steve swallowed thickly. “Did I say yours?”

Darcy has heard about it happening before. Mismatches, as they were called. One sided-markings, where you’d meet your Soulmate but it turned out you weren’t their Soulmate back. It’s confusing, and a thousand times rarer than triads— a true curse, to be bonded to someone that doesn’t feel it back. Much worse than any of the unrequited love stories Darcy grew up reading, the sort of horrible fate parents would pray to any god listening that their child would be spared. Mad kings, mass murderers, torturers. A pattern of Mismatches and unspeakable violence, horror stories and cautionary tales told in the history classes that Darcy had often skipped.

She doesn’t answer the question, there’s really no need when the answer is written all over her face, in the tears threatening to spill. Instead, the woman turns her face to Bucky. “Did I—?”

“You did.” He nodded, stretching his left arm forward so she can see her own handwriting stark against his skin. _Nice to meet you, James. I hope you don’t mind that Steve invited me to stay here for the night. I’ll leave in the morning, I promise_. Darcy can’t properly remember which arm Barnes had lost during the war, and there’s a small, greedy part of her that hopes his left is the one spared.

“I’d have to pull down my pants to show you yours.” She said, earning a loud, panicked noise from Steve; it’s something between a screech and a cough, and for a moment Darcy worried he might choke. “Steve’s are on my ribs.”

“These are Bucky’s.” Steven said, taking off his wristwatch so she can see the small cluster of letters. They’re upside down to her, so she can’t properly read them, but it makes sense that Bucky would be the one graced to be Steven’s match. “I have another one here,” he pats his shirt over his chest. “But they aren’t what you said to me, I’m sorry.”

In the future, showing off your markings to someone you weren’t attached to was incredibly taboo. Even during sex, Soulmarks would remain hidden; they were a part of your Soul, something so intimate and yours that no one would even dream to show it— That is, unless you were seventeen year old Darcy Lewis, who ate instant ramen six times a week before some random biology major offered you five hundred bucks to let a team of future scientists poke and prod your marks for a few hours a week.

“It’s ok.” She said, even though it wasn’t. “It happens.” She added, even though it didn’t. Bucky took her hand in his, squeezing it a bit and the touch is incredibly comforting considering they’d met just a couple of hours prior.

“You still have me, if that’s enough.” Bucky offered, and the sad look on his eyes are so similar to the ones of the Winter Soldier it nearly makes her cry. “And Steve isn’t going anywhere. You two may not be bonded, but I promise he won’t leave you.”

“That’s true.” Steve added eagerly, leaning onto the table and Darcy doesn’t miss the way his hand wraps around James’ forearm. “There’s an empty apartment just across the hall. You two can marry and move there, and I’ll stay here. Maybe I’ll even be the odd uncle who helps you babysit the children once in a while.”

"Don't be daft, Stevie." Bucky said, shaking his head. "You'd never be able to afford this place on your own. You're Darcy's Soulmate, I'm sure she wouldn't mind having you living with us. Right, doll?"

Darcy laughed through her tears, shaking her head at the absurdity of the conversation. That’s when it hits her, a story grandma Lewis had told her time and time again, of how young couples would often wed as soon as their found their match—Grandma herself, tying the knot less than a month after she’d met Grandpa Lewis; Darcy had always seen it as an exaggeration, as a misplaced story mangled by dementia inside the woman’s brain. Even Darcy’s mother didn’t quite believe it, but sitting there, staring at Bucky’s confused (and hurt?) eyes as he watched her laugh had Darcy’s stomach sinking to the bottom of her being.

“Wait. You’re fucking kidding me, right?”


	3. The Talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi friends! Here I am again, with yet another chapter.   
> I hope you guys are enjoying the story as much as I'm enjoying writing!   
> This chapter is a little slower, but it's needed to set the future of our characters. I tried to keep the same length as the others for consistency sake, so it's a lot of chatting between our three faves. No 2026 pov this time! 
> 
> See you soon, please enjoy!

**1940 —— Brooklyn, New York**.

Turns out, Bucky and Steve were very serious about Bucky marrying the woman they’d just met a couple of hours prior. The woman who told them she came from the future, and that she’d died and come back to life. Surprised doesn’t even come close to explaining how Darcy feels, even if she should’ve known better; these were Captain Steve Rogers and Sergeant James Barnes; the one who was willing to let a stranger inject him with super-hero juice, and the man who was willing to follow that idiot into war.

“I’m not marrying anyone.” She said, once she realized what was going on; Bucky had been incredibly offended at first, when he assumed her laughter and denial had been towards Steve living with them. As it turned out, Bucky was far less offended by the fact that she wouldn’t marry him than her not wanting Steven around. “I don’t even exist in this century yet. Also, we literally just met. What the fuck?”

“Well— It’s the proper thing to do. The only Soulmates that don’t get married upon bonding are — queers.” Steve reasoned. Bucky kept his eyes on the table, silent for once.

“Oh yeah? Like you two?” Darcy bites out the words, though her anger is not directed at the two of them; Bucky bangs his fists onto the table as he stands up, his chair scraping loudly against the hardwood floors. It makes Darcy recoil back in her seat, Steve staring down at her as if he could drill holes into her head.

The brunet leaves the dining room without another word, and it’s very clear that Darcy struck a nerve. They both stay silent as they hear the shower turn on, Steve clearing his throat before standing up and starting to put away their dishes. “Are you going to leave?”

Darcy stares at him, heart sinking. “I mean— I—” She stutters, staring back at the door, unsure if that was Steve’s way of retreating his offer.

“I don’t mean now. I mean … Are you going to go back to your timeline?”

“I have no way of doing that.” She answered honestly. “Jane’s going to need to come find me.”

“But you are going to leave?” Steve pressed on, face impassive.

“Well— Yes? I can’t stay here, Steve. I haven’t even been born yet.”

“You should tell him that. I don’t think Bucky ever thought he’d match with someone he couldn’t have.” He straightened his narrow shoulders, offering Darcy a far too polite smile. It’s clear a line has been drawn, Steve’s coldness a far contrast with how warm and welcoming he’s been all night. “Bedroom’s through that door. I’ll just have to go in there in a few moments to grab some linen for the couch, but you can make yourself at home.”

“It’s your bedroom, I’m not— I can sleep on the couch. Seriously. I’ve slept in a van for eight months once.”

“Miss Darcy, please.” The blond shook his head. “My ma would crawl out of her grave if she knew we let a dame sleep on that grimy couch.”

The brunette nodded, slowly making her way to the bedroom, replaying the final moments of their conversation in her brain. By the time she’s at the door, Darcy turns back to Steve. “Hey, Steve? I don’t… I’m not like the people around here. I don’t have an issue with you and Bucky. Good night.” She gave him a small smile before closing the door behind her, Steve staring in stunned silent at the wooden door.

By the time Steve sneaks into the bedroom for the linens, Darcy is already asleep. He tries to keep his eyes averted from her, even though she’s completely hidden away under the covers. Still, there’s a small part of him that lets his eyes wonder, even for just a couple of seconds, how it would feel to have such an interesting being as a Soulmate. He’d always known James was special, always wondered why someone like him would be matched with someone like Steven. As it was, Steve was certain a time traveler such as Darcy tipped the scale a whole lot.

“Do you believe her?” He asked Bucky as they made the couch into a makeshift bed. Bucky had also placed a kilt and pillow on the floor, though Steve was dreading having to spend the night apart from the other, even if just by a few inches. “That she’s from the future?”

“Did you really see her fall from the sky?”

“I did. And it wasn’t like she fell from a building or something, i was looking up— trying to get my nose to stop bleedin’. The sky… _moved_. Like when you throw a stone into a lake, y’know? Not the clouds, or anything. The actual sky moved. And she came toppling down from it.”

“Then I believe it.” Bucky answered, brushing his knuckles against the purple-ish skin of Steve’s under eye. “Mack did this?”

“It’s alright. I kinda had it coming.”

“Bet ya did.” Bucky said, a soft smile on his lips. He doesn’t dare get any closer to Steven than the small touch to his nose, not when Darcy could walk out of the bedroom at any moment. “What are we going to do? We can’t keep her here. Not if we don’t want the neighbors talkin’.”

And that really was rule number one. Keeping things hidden, making sure their heads are down and that they’re as invisible as possible to the people around them.

“Do you think you could talk to Rebecca?” Steve asked, taking his place on the couch. Bucky was already lying on the floor, the two of them turned to face each other. “She has a spare bed at her place, doesn’t she?”

“How are we going to explain to her that my Soulmate fell down from the sky in those clothes? With the way she speaks, and acts? Becca would know something was up in a second.”

“What if we told Becca the truth?”

“We’d all end up in straitjackets before we can finish the sentence.”

“Ain’t that just swell.” Steve stayed silent for a moment, mulling the situation over. “What do you think about the possibility of telling Becca that Darcy doesn’t speak English? She could be my odd cousin from Ireland or something.”

“I don’t think Darce will be able to keep her mouth shut for too long, baby doll.”

Steve blushed at the pet name, his hand crawling from under the blanket to hang in the space between them. “She’s _Darce_ now, huh?”

Bucky sighed as if he’d been expecting that particular conversation to start sooner or later. “You know I love you, right? We’ve always known someone else would come in eventually. I still love you all the same, Stevie. Always will.”

“I know, I know. I’m not— I just… You know.”

“You expected her to be your match too.” Bucky could understand that; despite knowing how rare it was, he too had hoped whoever was the owner of the words on his left arm would be a match to Steve’s. The calligraphy was so similar, yet Bucky had never allowed himself to dream too high. “You know how unlikely that was, doll. We both always knew. On the bright side, she’s still your Soulmate. Just because you’re not bonded to her doesn’t mean you two won’t love each other down the line.”

“Right.” Steve’s tone makes it clear he doesn’t believe that. “Do you think I’ll ever find mine? Maybe… Maybe that’s it, you know. Maybe we’re both meant to find our own nice lady to settle down with. Stay just friends.”

“Is that what you want, Stevie?” Bucky sat up, the covers pooling around his waist as he finds himself at eye level with the blond. “Marry a nice broad, have her push out a coupla’ kids?” He leans in closer, resting his weight on his knees. It’s a risky move considering how Darcy could come out of the bedroom at any moment, but the man simply cannot control himself; Steve gravitates towards him, leaning in as well until their noses are brushing up against each other. “Never get to touch me again? Never feel my touch again? Is that what you want, doll?”

It’s Steve that ends the space between them, a desperate press of lips that ends far too soon for his liking. “No, you know it’s not. I’m just being an idiot, I’m sorry.”

“I’m not going to ditch you over some dame we just met, Stevie. Not now, not ever okay? You know I’m with you ‘til the end of the line.”

“Sap.”

The smile on Steve’s lips is genuine, however, so Bucky settles back into his make-shift bed. “Yeah, but you love it. Now go to sleep, sweetheart. We’ll decide what to do tomorrow.”

///

There’s a brief moment when Darcy starts to regain her consciousness in which she believes it had all been a weird, Freudian dream. But then her eyes open, and Darcy is faced with a large iron window and a brick wall on the other side; the room is so hot she thinks it might be near noon, sun bearing through into it. There’s no noise outside of the bedroom, and Darcy slowly pads into the living room, afraid she might wake someone up. Instead, she’s greeted with Steven sitting on the couch, profusely drawing.

“Morning.” She said, unsure of where they stood after the awkward mood after dinner the night before. The blond just smiles, pointing to the dining table behind him.

“Morning. There’s some coffee left. Not much, Bucky had almost all of it.” He snickered. “He left for work already, and I gotta leave soon too… Do you think you’re going to be okay staying here by yourself?”

Darcy pours herself some of the coffee, turning her back onto Steve so he can’t see the grimace on her face as she downs the black sludge. “Yes, I’ll be fine, you don’t have to worry about me. I might go for a walk, I don’t know.”

“Not in those clothes, I’d hope.” Even if the words may sound mean out of context, Steve’s tone is soft, joking almost. He jumps up, dragging a large trunk from under his feet. “Bucky’s sister brought over some old clothes of hers. We didn’t tell her about you.” He added quickly once he saw the look on Darcy’s face. “We told her a friend had her house burnt down and needed everything… Honestly, I kind of think she thought they were for me.” There’s a crinkle between his eyebrows as he pops open the lid; colorful, frilly textures and cloth jump out of it, and it’s clear that Rebecca hadn’t been cheap when picking out the clothing.

“Does she know about you two?” Darcy asked, glad to set her mug aside as she kneels onto the floor, starting to go through the fabrics.

“Christ, no.” Steve shook his head, plopping cross legged onto the floor next to her. He pulls out a bright red dress, smoothing out the wrinkles. “But I think she suspects it. Dunno if she thinks we’re Soulmates as well or just a couple ‘a fairies.”

“When I’m from, you could get your ass beat in the street for speaking like that.” Darcy said, though she knows Steve doesn’t mean it with the same hatred she always heard; still, it’s bothersome. “Well… Maybe not beat. But someone might spit on your coffee, that’s for sure. I would’ve, at least.”

“Did you mean what you said last night?”

“About you and Bucky? Yeah, I did.” Darcy pulls out a really pretty floral dress, and even though the shape of it is far from something she would’ve worn in her entire lifetime, the pattern is definitely up her alley. “Steve, I’m not straight either.”

The red dress slips from Steven’s fingers, and if Darcy is silent enough she thinks she can hear the cogs turning inside his brain.

“I’m bisexual. Do you know what that means? It means I don’t care about a person’s gender. I can fall in love with men, women, people in between. It doesn’t matter to me.”

“Bucky’s like that too, I think.” The answer comes out shy, as if Steve doesn’t know if he should trust her or not.

“What about you?”

Steve is silent for a long time. So long that Darcy almost thinks he won’t answer.

“There’s never been anyone for me apart from Bucky.”

It doesn’t hurt as much as Darcy expected it to, for some reason. In fact, Darcy thinks it’s almost refreshing to know that Steve was gay; it meant that there was nothing wrong with her to make her a Mismatch. Steve was just gay, and that was why he couldn’t reciprocate their bond.

“Do you mind if I take a shower? I promise I’ll be out of you guys’ hair as soon as I can.”

“Yeah, about that— Bucky and I talked about it. You can stay with us for as long as you need, since you don’t really know how long it’ll take for you to go home. He do— We don’t think it would be safe for you to stay anywhere else. I’m sorry to say it, Darce, but you kinda stick out like a sore thumb. Even in a pretty, time-appropriate dress.”

“Darce?” She asked, grinning. The grin turns into a giggle once Steve blushes, and she can’t help but think about the way Captain Rogers had also called her that before she fell into the machine. “I’m just pulling your leg, Steve. It’s ok, I like it better than Miss Darcy, really.” The brunette stands up, leaning down so she can plant a kiss to Steve’s cheek. “Thank you for letting me stay.”


	4. The Man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi friends! I'm sorry this one took a little longer. Lockdown's upon my town and it killed my entire will to write, I've been writing and re-writing this chapter for a week and I'm still not entirely satisfied with it. 
> 
> This one's a little shorter, but it starts to shape where our story is going! Can you guess who the man is? 
> 
> See you soon!

Darcy’s been with her Soulmates for a month before the bleeding starts. They had gotten into a groove, with Darcy staying at home for as long as she could while the boys went back to work; she’d write, and draw, and cook dinner to occupy herself. Some days, Darcy would venture out into the streets, but the woman found that her glasses were far too modern not to attract attention, and going out without them was more of a hassle than it was really worth it. Poor Steven had even tried to find a more era-appropriate seeing glasses, but Darcy hadn’t quite adapted to them. The bleeding isn’t anything she finds concerning, just a little trickle of blood down her nostrils every once in a while; Darcy blames the weather, telling herself it’s nothing note-worthy. And yet, she hides it from the boys.

That particular day was one where she felt brave enough to explore the city, getting dressed bright and early (they had pushed a single bed into the corner of the living room for her, which meant Darcy didn’t get much sleep after either of the men woke up) and leaving the apartment with the kind of determination that she hadn’t felt in ages. She bought fresh flowers for the empty vase that sat on the dinning table, and stopped by the docks to bring Bucky the lunch he’d forgotten sitting on the kitchen counter that morning.

Darcy doesn’t dare stray too far from the apartment, sticking with one main street as she window shops. Truth be told, Darcy hadn’t been to New York City a lot; she had been living in the New York state for a few months ever since Jane was recruited into the Science Department of the Avengers after they’d undone the big fuckstorm Thanos had brought to the world, but the Big Apple was still uncharted territory for her. It was so different from what she remembered in the short trips she’d done there, and yet some of the buildings looked so similar it made her stomach tie into knots.

Darcy was standing in front of a clothing store when her nose starts bleeding, staring at a particularly pretty skirt for so long she doesn’t even notice the blood until it dips into her mouth. “Shit.” The woman cussed, stepping away from the window as she rubbed a hand under her nose.

“Are you alright, ma’am?” The question comes from a man in a pristine tan suit, standing by the sidewalk with evident concern in his face. His shiny dark hair reminds her of someone, but Darcy’s brain is so foggy she can’t truly focus on it.

“I’m alright, thank you.” The words come out shaky, Darcy giving him a dismissive wave. The world spins around her, and the woman doesn’t even have enough time to spread her arms out before she plummets to the ground, unconscious.

///

Steve comes home early after his shift at the art studio and he’s immediately hit with the feeling that something is wrong. It doesn’t even register in his brain that Darcy isn’t home as he sets down his drawing supplies, the woman’s bed made in the corner, the air just a little stale as if the house had been closed for hours.

“Darce?” He asked, heart speeding into his chest. There’s not much space for her to hide in such a tiny apartment, and soon enough Steve’s done a proper sweep of the place. With Darcy nowhere to be found and no note left behind, the blond feels pain bloom on his chest enough to make him breathless. He doesn’t think it’s for himself, not really— He knew Darcy would leave eventually, but Bucky… Steve knew it would crush him.

Unsure of what to do, Steve simply sits there. He sits on the end of Darcy’s bed, and just stays there, mourning the loss of the woman that had ever given him her undivided attention; the woman that, even though he’d broken her heart, had plastered a smile to her lips and supported him nonetheless. Steve is still sitting there by the time Bucky comes home an hour later, and it takes a whole of thirty seconds for Bucky to read Steve’s expression and understand what was happening.

“Did she say goodbye?”

“I got home and she’d already left.” Steven said, patting the spot on the mattress next to him. Bucky drops onto it, shoulder resting against the other. “I’m sorry, love. I don’t think Darce wanted to go.”

“She came by the docks this morning. Maybe she didn’t leave. Maybe— Maybe something happened.”

Steve is silent for a moment, long enough to make Bucky turn to look at him.

“That’s highly unlikely, Buck. We knew she’d have to leave some day.” The blond sighed, his bony hand grabbing at James’ thigh. “I’m sure she wished she had more time with us. With you.”

Neither of them sleep that night; Steve lays next to Bucky in their room, counting his own breaths and Bucky jumps up at every sound, rushing to the window or the apartment hallway in case it was Darcy finally coming home. Once the sun starts to poke its head up, Steve finally gives up pretending to sleep, dragging himself out of bed and making them both a pot of extra strong coffee. Bucky’s already dressed and ready to go by the time it finishes brewing, even though Steve had gotten out of bed before he did.

“C’mon Stevie, we gotta go. We need to find her.”

“Buck, she’s not a lost dog. What are we going to tell people if they tell us we should go to the police? What do we say if they ask us who she is? We need to think this through.”

“You really don’t get it, do you?” The brunet asked, eyes sad as he looks at the other man. The tone’s just a little harsh, and while no one would bat an eye at it, Steve feels like he’s been slapped in the face. “How would you feel if I just went missin’ in the middle of the night, Stevie?”

“Don’t— Don’t do that. It’s not the same. You’ve known this broad for a month. You and I… We’re much more than that.”

“This broad?” Bucky asked, taking a step forward and it’s his own turn to look like he’s been hit. His tone is slightly higher, not yet screaming but much harsher than he usually uses when it comes to Steve. “Just yesterday she was Darce to you, now she’s just some dame we picked up on the streets?”

Bucky’s tone is enough to make Steven backtrack, eyebrows furrowing as he takes a deep, calming breath. “I’m not… Bucky, I’m concerned as well. She’s not my Soulmate, so I don’t feel what you feel, but I don’t want anything bad happening to her either. I just don’t think we should jump into this without thinking, that’s all. Not when it’s obvious what happened.”

“Maybe you should stay home.” He said, not skipping a beat. Bucky’s face is stone cold, the angry and afraid look in his eyes so similar to the one he’d be sporting in seventy years time. “In case Darcy comes back.”

James’ tone is so final that Steve almost doesn’t want to argue, something ugly brewing in his chest.

“Fuck you, I’m not staying behind.”

///

They start small, asking the closest shops about Darcy, with no results. Bucky ventures out closer to the docs, knowing she’d been there just the day before, but most people don’t seem to recall her. The men are quite thorough with their search, sticking with the story of Darcy being Barnes’ cousin that came to visit for a few days; it’ll probably reach Rebecca’s ears before they can find Darcy, and the man knew it would be a headache to explain it to his little sister what that was all about, but in that moment Bucky wasn’t truly concerned with the future— There was only one goal in his mind, and that would be to find his Soulmate. He still felt his bond to her, a little thrumming of the words on his thighs which definitely meant she wasn’t dead; he wasn’t sure if that meant she was still in 1940, but Bucky surely hoped it did.

By the third hour of their search, the duo entered a small clothing store; it was further away from the apartment than they had ever heard of Darcy going, and the men had only gone in out of pure spite, more and more certain Darcy was truly gone.

“Hi, good morning sir. I was— You see, my cousin is in town, she’s from California and she came in for her father’s funeral. She was supposed to go back home this evening, but we can’t find her anywhere. She about this tall—” Bucky motioned to his own chest; just under Steve’s hairline. “With dark brown hair and blue eyes. And eyeglasses.”

“Curvy.” Steven added.

The old man behind the counter doesn’t even pretend to think. “I’m sorry, son. I don’t think I’ve seen anyone like that around.”

“It’s ok, thank you anyways Sir.” Steve said, Bucky’s forlorn look making it clear he didn’t have it in him to respond. He pats his friend on the back, motioning for the brunet to make his way out of the shop; the men are nearly at the door when a loud, child-like voice makes them halt.

“Wait!” The little girl yelled; She couldn’t be older than ten, coming from under the counter and running towards them. The man in the counter grumbles, and it almost seems like he wanted to stop her but wasn’t sure how. “Was she wearing a flower dress?”

There’s a pregnant pause. Bucky’s speechless, truly unsure of what Darcy had been wearing that morning.

“Yes, she was. Yellow with small, purple flowers.” The response came from Steve, and Bucky can’t hide the surprised look on his face.

“I saw her. She was standing by the window for a few minutes. Then an old man put her in the back of a red car.” The child tugs softly at one of her pigtails, bright brown eyes looking up at the two with clear concern. “He had to carry her into the car like a princess. They went that way.”


End file.
